FANTASY a GSR story
by ILoveJorja
Summary: Set during and after Time of Your Death. Yes, it's my take on how they got together. Inspired by the look Gil Grissom gives Sara at the end of the episode. Hot!


**FANTASY**

**CHAPTER ONE**

_It was a strange day. Wonderful and sweet, but strange...in a good way_, Sara thought. It had started with a case that led to the world of fantasy. A young man, expensively dressed, lying dead outside a casino loading dock. The CSI team found his room card and worked backwards, finding the girl he was with in the elevator, his new clothes paid for with a wad of cash, the blue chalk on his leather jacket. The chalk led them to a pool hall and an angry loser. From there the trail led to ugly damage on the dead man's red Ferrari, and transfer from the loser's car.

The dead man was employed by an arrogant film producer, who expressed remorse for the death.

"I can't stop crying," he said to Brass, his face expressionless.

Brass eyed him stonily. "Want something to drink?"

"Sure. Um, small Pellegrino, room temperature."

Brass and Grissom exchanged a look.

"What was Jeff doing in Las Vegas?" Brass asked Mick Sheridan.

"About a month ago, when he was making copies of my divorce settlement, he spotted a provision that my wife's lawyers had rephrased. My lawyers missed it. He saved me millions of dollars. So, to thank him, I gave him a vacation."

**CHAPTER TWO**

Sara had worked on the sidelines for the most part, examining evidence and running leads. She found a phone number for something called Caprice Unlimited and triangulated its street location.

Sara lingered in the doorway, watching Gil work. He glanced up and smiled.

"Have something for me?" he asked her.

"Yup." She handed him the file.

"Let's go check it out." Grissom said, standing and heading for the door.

Sara was pleased, but hid her smile. She loved spending time with Grissom, working with him, talking to him. _Well, most of the time, anyway. Apart from the times he's patronizing, or dismissive, or deliberately obtuse, or just plain pissy, _she thought, stopping at her locker and heading out to Grissom's Tahoe. _But I love him. I can't help it. I can't help risking rejection, ridicule, pain, to be with him. Warts and all, he's the one I can't let go. _

**CHAPTER THREE**

Grissom climbed into the driver's seat and frowned as a thought occurred to him.

"You know, this place, whatever it is, can't be open yet. It _is_ the middle of the night," he said to Sara.

"Oh, right," she answered. "I'm so used to our nocturnal life that I forget that most people live and work in daylight."

There was a pause.

"Um, so would you like to get some breakfast?"

"Sure," she answered eagerly. "Can't remember the last time I ate." _Hmm, a date, to eat together? After he…_

"Good." Grissom started the engine. He drove to a little diner. _Not our usual hangout. I wonder why._

As soon as the waitress brought their coffee, they slipped easily into conversation, telling funny stories about their early lives, remembering incidents, and letting the easy banter bounce between them.

After they had eaten and their plates whisked away, Grissom toyed with his mug of cooling coffee.

Gazing at the mug, he said shyly, "I've missed this."

"Missed what?"

"Talking to you. We used to be… friends."

"I remember."

"Can we…uh…could we?"

"Yes," Sara flashed her smile. "We can be friends." _Friends, sure. Friends with benefits?? _

"Good." He sighed, and glanced at his watch.

"Um, we should do this more often." He dared not look at her.

"Do what?" Sara said deliberately, making him say the words.

"You know. Get together. Spend some time, outside of work."

"Yes," Sara said hoarsely, "I'd like that." _Wow._

Grissom reached for the check, lightly swatting her hand away as she did the same.

"No, dear, this is my treat."

He took it to the cash register and returned, dropping a generous tip. Sara had not moved, and was gaping at him.

"What?"

"You, you called me "dear." Uhm, you don't often do that."

"Not often enough." He smiled and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

She gave him her full Sidle grin. He couldn't help but smile back. _No man can resist that smile. I'm a lucky guy._

They strolled arm in arm to the parking lot. Outside the sky was turning peach and pale yellow, erasing the blue of night. They paused to admire the sunrise. Even the glare of Vegas neon was dimmed for a few moments.

"It's still early. How about," he chose his words carefully. "I drop you at your place, go home, and we can both get a few hours sleep?"

"Sounds good."

"Pick you up at, 4?"

"Okay."

The drive was quiet, both lost in thought.

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Once inside, both went into their familiar routines; a hot shower, unwind, get into comfortable sleepwear, crawl into bed, set the alarm, sleep. Their deep sleep led them to similar dream worlds. _Sara, her hair splayed across my pillow. Her sweet neck exposed. Her lips parted, moaning with pleasure, her hands on me, her beautiful hips rocking…_

**Beep! Beep! Beep!**

Grissom groaned and rolled over, switching off the alarm with a practiced movement, never opening his eyes. The familiar dream evaporating, he felt himself and grunted to find the usual stickiness on his boxers. _Every morning. Every damn day._

He stumbled to the bathroom and did his usual ablutions.

_The first kiss. The kiss that sends shockwaves to my toes. Electricity. Heat. Desire. His solid body under my hands, looming over my body. Smooth skin, tight muscles in his broad shoulders and back, digging my fingers in his ass, the sweet feel of…_

**BEEP…BEEP…BEE**

Sara switched off the alarm and lay still a few moments, gazing at the ceiling, letting the images replay in her mind. _Damn, even it's just a fantasy—it's hot. _She sighed heavily and threw the covers aside.

Grissom knocked at her door at the appointed time. Sara showed him the address for Cavalier Enterprises and they both shifted into work mode.

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Grissom and Sara walked through a dim passageway, toward Caprice Unlimited**.** The hall opened up to a Japanese garden, an enchanted and peaceful place. Peach trees, carefully tended, covered in pink flowers. There were paper lanterns, vivid greens of lush vegetation, a Koi pond with large fish swimming lazily. Rocks arranged simply, with raked sand around them. A place that soothed, especially after the noise and glare that was Vegas.

A neatly dressed man approached the couple, explaining politely that this was private property. Grissom introduced himself and Sara and told him the purpose of their visit.

Antony Caprice explained about the scenario he was creating for some Midwestern salesmen.

"I learn everything about my client's wants and desires, all without him even knowing. Secret longings—they have a…kind of electricity. They're often much more visible than we would want them to be."

Sara looked worried, Grissom looked intrigued.

"Oh, I get it," Grissom said slowly. "You're one of those companies that stages fantasies, right? Everything appears real, but it's all been worked out in advance?" Mr. Caprice agreed.

Sara glanced at Grissom and smiled secretly.

Mr. Caprice seemed unsurprised to hear that the young man was dead.

"Tragic." Cavalier said. "But definitely not in the script."

"Script?" Sara asked.

Mr. Cavalier pulled out a Blackberry and punched some buttons with ease. Several sheets of paper fed out of a printer nearby. He handed them to her.

"Here's a copy of Mr. Powell's scenario. Every event that they talked about was meticulously planned in advance and timed down to the minute."

Sara and Grissom glanced at each other. The same question was effortlessly read by the other.

Cavalier smiled to himself. _Oh, yeah. These two have it bad._

Satisfied with their questions and answers, he excused himself politely and turned away. A few paces, and he turned and looked at the couple.

"Oh, and may all _your_ dreams come true."

Sara and Grissom stared at him mutely, foreheads furrowed.

**CHAPTER SIX**

Grissom and Sara sat in his SUV, reading the script. Occasionally they read bits aloud to each other.

"Let's wrap this up, shall we?"

She nodded. They drove back to the lab.

The team was in the layout room, putting together the timeline of Jeff's untimely end. The script laid out the blonde's first interaction with Jeff, and how she asked for his help to deal with an imaginary abusive boyfriend.

"Any guy would help a beautiful woman in distress, right?" Nick asked, looking at Grissom.

"Some men are intimidated by beauty," he responded, "Or fear rejection."

Sara looked confused for a moment, then shook away her frustration. _Why can't I figure him out? He throws these curveballs, then goes on like they're nothing._

"So it was all arranged," said Catherine. "The blonde, the clothes, the pool hall, the racecar, the partying in his hotel room, the sex."

"Not quite," said Sara. "According to the script, 'your employment ends with the goodnight kiss. You are not requested to perform, nor compensated for, any activity you initiate beyond this point. Should nature take its course, you are on your own."

"So when Jeff was killed, he was off script?" Grissom asked her. She gestured in agreement.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

It was close to the end of shift and Sara, Catherine, Greg and Grissom were sitting around the break table, unwinding and discussing the case that had interested all of them.

Nick came in and showed Catherine a diamond bracelet, and talked about luck and the fantasy of Vegas.

Grissom didn't pay much attention. He couldn't take his eyes off Sara. _The light on her face. Those delicate features. Glints of gold in her dark hair. Beautiful brown eyes. God, she's a vision._

Sara shifted slightly under his intense gaze, glancing shyly up at him from time to time. _Damn. Why do I feel naked?_ _I've never seen…never felt…_Greg's voice broke into her thoughts.

"Hush money or not, you have to admit that whole fantasy thing was a pretty cool gift from a very generous boss."

"Greg, don't you have a birthday coming up?" she smiled sweetly in his direction.

"Why yes, Sara, I do," Greg said happily.

Grissom looked at her. _Why are you encouraging him?_

"Lemme guess," Catherine said, teasing. "Ear-shredding rock, a beautiful model, boatloads of sushi, and…latex?"

"No," he waved his hand dismissively. "That was last year."

"I think fantasies are best kept…private." Grissom stated, his eyes dark and intense, looking at Sara. She glanced at him and nodded almost imperceptibly.

Greg yawned and stretched, "You know, I'd settle for a birthday breakfast."

"Now that is a fantasy," Catherine laughed, got up and headed out. Greg left close behind her.

Now it was just the two of them. Gil and Sara. The sexual tension was as thick as fog. Grissom's hooded eyes traveled up and down Sara's body. She shivered. Neither spoke for minutes.

Sara cleared her throat and gathered her papers nervously.

"Uh, time to clock out. I guess," she said shakily.

Grissom didn't move, didn't appear to hear her, just kept looking at her with dark intensity.

She brushed past him on her way to the locker room, feeling the electricity throbbing in her belly, the tension radiating from him. _Shit! I'm not even touching him, and he makes me weak in the knees._

She sat on the locker bench and tried to slow her breathing, her pounding heart.

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Sara grabbed her things and strode to her Tahoe, bemused. She started the engine, inserted a Rolling Stones CD, and pulled out, humming and singing along, her voice melding easily in harmony. _What __was__ that?_ She shook her head, not daring to hope.

Grissom sat in his SUV, watching her every movement. When her car disappeared in traffic, he pulled out after her, carefully keeping a distance behind.

He pulled into her apartment parking lot and killed the engine. He watched her familiar

form, those long legs, the gentle curves of her body, as she gracefully let herself in her apartment and closed the door.

He watched the lights go on, her shadowy figure moving across the pale drapes. Gripped the steering wheel with whitened knuckles. Grissom gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. _Damn it. Fuck why is this so fucking hard?_ The lights in her home went off, one by one.

"Now or never. Now or never. NOW OR NEVER!" Grissom muttered. He repeated it like a mantra. _Goddamit I can't take any more never. I'll lose my fucking mind._

"What's the worst that could happen?" he debated with himself. "Rejection? You'd deserve it. Anger? I could handle that. Violence?" He smiled grimly. "She'll never…talk to me again? Run away?" _Cross that bridge when you come to it, you ass. Stop overthinking._

He sighed deeply and climbed from the cab. Squaring his shoulders and quashing his fears, he knocked firmly on her door. He looked around nervously, and knocked again, harder. Time seemed to stand still. At last he saw a shadow flick across the peephole.

**CHAPTER NINE**

Sara flung open the door. Her hair was mussed and there was a faint pillow crease across her cheek. She held a long silk peach nightgown close around her body, hugging herself. She was barefoot.

Grissom couldn't take his eyes off her feet. Her naked feet seemed so, erotic. He realized he'd never seen them before. She always wore boots or sturdy shoes.

"Grissom?"

"Grissom? Gris! What are you doing here?"

He dragged his eyes to her face. No words would come.

"Get in here. Let me close the door." She moved around him, looking at him with frustration.

She moved back and stood squarely in front of him. Arms crossed across her chest. Sara looked angry.

"Talk."

"Sara."

"Yes!?"

"Sara. I…" he trailed off.

"Dammit Gil. You can't just show up whenever the hell you feel like it. I was asleep. Either you say something or I throw you out!" she yelled.

"Sara?"

"This is getting repetitive." She looked at the ceiling and sighed.

Without the glare from her eyes stopping him, Grissom felt released. He moved forward and cupped her face in his hands. They looked at each other until her eyes softened and his eyes communicated what his words couldn't. Slowly, she brought her hands to his hips and held him, held herself up.

"Sara." He whispered. This time her name was a caress.

He leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. She let out a tiny noise, halfway between a sigh and a groan. He moved closer and kissed her. Kissed her like a lover. Kissed her like he was drowning, and she was his lifeline. _She is life._

Sara responded, kissing him like she's always dreamed. _I am dreaming, right?_

Grissom dipped his head and kissed her throat. Kissed and nibbled his way across her collarbone and up the other side of her neck and found her ear with his lips.

"Oh God." She stroked his head, his curly hair, ran her hands down his body and across his muscular back.

They found each other's mouths and kissed passionately, the years of frustration pouring from their bodies, teeth tugging and tongues tangling tasting. Reason fled. They read each other's minds, anticipated each other's movements, moved in symmetry, surrendering. She broke away and stepped back.

"C'mere," she said huskily, holding out a shaky hand.

He grabbed her hand and followed, eyes burning.

She led him to the armless brown leather couch and tugged him down beside her. They sat face to face, foreheads touching, breathing heavily, hands roaming. Sara impatiently pushed his jacket off and pulled his shirt up. He raised his arms and allowed her, then slipped both his hands into her silken nightgown and slipped it open. He dragged his fingers down her half naked body, stroking her breasts, the tender skin.

"God," he breathed reverently, "you're so beautiful."

Sara paused for a moment. Gently, tenderly, she stroked his beard, the lines of his jaw, held his head, and looked in his eyes lovingly.

"You are beautiful too."

He shook his head.

"No. You are."

She lay back and he stretched along her, his back to the couch, his right arm limp under her waist. Sara moved to feel his full length along her. She shifted on her left hip to pull him close. The silk of her nightgown slid over the leather, and horrifyingly she felt herself falling. She flailed her arms out to catch herself, and he moved forward to hold her. An elbow connected with his eye. A thud, and she landed heavily on the floor.

"Ouch!"

"Ow Ow! Dammit!"

Sara landed hard on her ass with a thump. Groaning, she got to her knees and pulled close to him.

Grissom had his hands covering his eyes.

"Gil! Oh God! I'm so sorry."

She pulled his hands away.

"Let me see."

His right eye was watering and clearly swelling.

"I'm so sorry," she kept repeating frantically.

"S'okay,"

"You…you're going to have a black eye."

"Hell."

"Catherine."

"Catherine," he repeated dully. They smiled sadly at each other.

Sara got to her feet.

"I'm getting you some ice. Don't move."

"How's your ass?" Grissom called after her, grinning.

"Fine." He snorted. _Yes it is._

"Smooth move, there," he teased as she eased an ice pack over his eye.

"Yeah it was. Jesus, I really clocked you," she moved the ice away and examined his face. She bent down and kissed his eyelid, his nose, his forehead, his cheeks, the other eye.

"Mmm. That's better. Kiss it and make it better."

"Yes." And she did.

**CHAPTER TEN**

They broke apart at last.

"I guess…we're both a little nervous," she said cautiously. "I know I am."

"Me too, honey."

"Yeah?"

"Of course," he said with a little more confidence. He shifted up and pulled her to sit next to him.

"I don't want to screw this up. God knows I've done that already."

"Yes. But…it could be worth the wait?" she offered.

"Oh, yes. It is. Already better. Better than I dreamed."

"You dreamed… about this?"

"Well, not exactly," he said, smiling his crooked smile. "Not getting poked in the eye, but…making love to you? Every night." He admitted.

"Gil?"

"Yes, love?"

"Make love to me?"

He undressed her completely and shifted to shuck off the rest of his clothes, then pulled her astride him. Both groaned at the contact. Skin on skin. Gil slid his hands up her feet, her folded legs, caressed the sweet curve of her ass. He cupped her ass in both hands. She lifted up on her knees, grasping his curls and stroking the skin of his neck, kissing any part of him she could reach. He then slid his hand between their bodies, spreading his fingers, and dragging a finger through her folds.

"Oh honey, so wet, so hot."

She murmured something, leaning in to lick his nipple, blowing on it, then tugging it gently with her teeth. Her hands roamed south and stroked his erection, tugging it so it rested on her belly. Ran a thumb across the head, slicking it with his pre-cum, then gripped and stroked it firmly. He groaned and thrust his hips upward.

He found her sweet spot and rubbed it in quick circles, feeling the moans and gasps in response.

"Want you. Gah!" She pulled herself up and guided him inside her, impaling herself on his glorious cock. She lowered herself and groaned. They both closed their eyes, letting the sensations wash over them. Slowly she began to rock, flexing her knees and pelvis and stroking and pumping above him. _So good, baby. God you feel so good._

He thrust up into her, faster, harder, breathing hard, nerves straining. _Make it last. _

_Sweet god. So good, so good, so GOOD._

The waves of orgasm crashed over them, blinding and overwhelming. They both slowed, stopped moving. They felt the warm glow fill their bellies, their bodies, their pounding hearts. Faces flushed. Breaths slowing. Their mingled juices ran between their thighs. He stroked her sweat-dampened skin and looked into her eyes. Sweat beaded at his temple and she sucked it off. They kissed languidly, tongues exploring.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." They smiled with their eyes.

"That was…incredible," Grissom said.

"Mind-blowing."

"Fantastic."

"Beyond my wildest dreams."

"Same here."

Reluctantly she got to her feet, her knees protesting.

"C'mon. Bed."

She tossed the covers aside, and threw herself across the bed. He bounced beside her and pulled her close. They made sweet love again, slowly, taking their time, learning each other's bodies, the places that elicited moans and guttural cries. They learned how to touch, how to move, how to give the most pleasure possible to their lover. He was patient and attentive. She was uninhibited and eager. They matched. They fit. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else.

**CHAPTER TEN**

Despite their vigorous workout, or perhaps because of it, neither felt like sleeping.

"I feel so alive," Sara said with wonderment. "I've never felt more awake."

"I know."

"Grissom?"

"Hmm?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why now? Why tonight, why…?"

"Why did I wait so long?" he finished for her.

"Yes, that."

"That will take some time to explain. I need to…I'll be right back."

He padded off to the bathroom and was gone some time. Sara hugged a pillow and waited and listened to the water running and his movements. Grissom reappeared wearing his boxers, and sat against the headboard. She laid her cheek against his shoulder and looked up at his face, waiting patiently.

"Okay. You were asking," he began tentatively.

"When we met, you were my student and I was your teacher." She nodded.

"It was wrong. I could have been fired, and disgraced. And you ruined too."

"I was attracted, God, I was bewitched. I couldn't concentrate. Every time I looked at you. Good thing I had my lecture memorized backwards and forwards."

"Memory is a gift," she reminded him, smiling.

"Yes, it sure is." He paused, then went on. "I didn't even know if you were over eighteen."

"What! I was a graduate student!"

"I know, but you were so brilliant, so curious, I thought you might be a prodigy."

"Thanks."

"And you looked so young. Christ you still do. You haven't aged a day since San Francisco. Matured, yes, but you are still look as young and beautiful. As the day we met. Natural." She hummed happily.

"And then we kept in touch, after I, after I had to leave. I so looked forward to your emails. The phone calls were more awkward, I was so nervous."

"Me too."

"Yeah? Anyway, I knew you were starting your career as a CSI, and I did whatever I could to ease you into it. I called your supervisor, tried to give you a little advice when I could…"

"You called Dave?"

"Yup. Turns out I didn't need to. You took to it. You're a natural. You're still the best criminalist," She kissed him.

"Hmm, distracting me. Well, then a year went by, more I guess. And then Holly…Holly was killed. You were the first person, the only one I could turn to. I told the team you were a friend, someone I could trust. You still are." Grissom kissed her.

"So I called you, and you came immediately." He shook his head.

"Dropped everything and flew to me like a bird. I didn't even think about that at the time, that you were leaving your job, your friends…"

"I wanted to be with you. I'd do it again."

"Really? After all I've put you through?" She nodded seriously.

"So then I was your boss, and I dropped you into an awkward situation, investigating Warrick, and Catherine had her hackles up."

"I noticed," Sara countered dryly.

"And as your boss, I had to keep my distance. I had to treat you dispassionately. No preferential treatment. The team would have rebelled."

"So instead you bent over backwards to give everyone else preferential treatment," she said bitterly.

"Yes. That was wrong. I'm sorry." She toyed with the blanket, not letting him see the hurt in her eyes. He felt it though, and apologized again and again, until she pushed him and told him to get on with it.

"I'm not good with people."

"You're better than you think you are. When you let yourself. Look at how you mentor Warrick, coach Nick, befriend Catherine, teach Greg…how you inspire all of us. All of us, Gil. We all look up to you."

"Yeah, okay, I guess. When I'm not being an ass."

"True." She giggled. He chuckled.

"So?" she asked. "Go on."

"And then…well, I felt so old. My hearing was failing. I felt flawed. If I couldn't do my job, my work? I would be useless. A failure. A lonely old man. I wanted you to be happy. I still do. I wanted you to enjoy your youth, not be tied down to an old man."

"Gil." She sat up straight and made him look at her.

"Gil. Listen to me. You are not an old man. You're brilliant and strong and handsome. Virile. You look like a Roman god." He chuffed.

"I mean it. Those tight curls on your head, your dark beard, your expressive eyes, broad shoulders, strong features…I did say grey hair could be very attractive, didn't I?"

"You did." They both laughed, remembering Hodges' startled response.

"You're all man. You look like Neptune, or Vulcan, or maybe Jupiter. Not a Greek god, they liked the beardless youths, slim-hipped…boys. The Romans revered men. Big, strong, handsome, men."

"Whatever you say," he said, flattered. "Then you, my dear, are Venus, goddess of love." She giggled.

He sighed. This part was harder. "So I pushed you away. I hurt you. My heart broke every time, and I know I broke yours too. I think too much. Overthink. When I'm around you, words flee."

"Seems you found them, now."

"Yes, strange, isn't it? I think too much, about the consequences, about…I squash down my emotions and pretend I feel nothing. And I feel everything. My head rules my heart."

"Yes."

"I wanted you, so badly. Every time I looked at you. Every time you brushed up against me, looked at me. You gave me your heart."

"Yes."

"I dreamed about you. I imagined what I could say, what I could do. I was falling, every day, every minute, more in love with you." Her eyes widened.

"And that scared me. I don't like to be out of control," Grissom explained. "I became obsessed with you."

"Yes. I could feel you every time you came in the room. Feel your eyes on me. It made me desire you even more, even when you were saying "No," said Sara. "I dream about you too."

"And yet, it felt wrong. I felt like a dirty old man." She slapped him lightly. "Okay, not that, but you know what I mean. I was your boss, and again I could have hurt our careers. And then…you opened up to me. Out there." He gestured toward her couch, her living room. "I couldn't believe what you told me, what you've been through. God Sara, you're so strong."

She pulled him closer, and listened to his heart, and the thrumming of his words in his chest.

"So, fool that I am, again I thought too much about what you told me, and I thought…I thought maybe you just thought of me as a father figure. And that's the biggest taboo of all. Incest."

"I see."

"So I had to be stoic. Not let my feelings show. Push you away. Not betray your trust with even a look, a glance, a word."

"Well, you are the poker player."

"And you, my dear, have such an expressive face. So open. Your emotions flit across it. It's never the same twice. I can watch you, look at your lovely face, and forget everything." She blushed.

He stroked her cheek. "I love that about you. And your smile. God I love your smile. It's like the sun breaking through the clouds."

She gave him the famous Sidle smile.

"See? It makes me warm inside." He snuggled closer. "That warmth began to thaw my heart, slowly but inexorably. We've been through so much. You never gave up. Never gave up on me, even when I hurt you."

"I've hurt you too."

"Probably. But I don't want to remember. You bent but you didn't break. Like a bamboo, swaying in a strong wind. You're long and lean, and those legs of yours, God, they go on forever."

She pursed her lips in that adorable way. He kissed her. He always wanted to, when she pursed her lips. It looked like she was kissing the air.

She pulled back and looked in his eyes, serious.

"But why now, Gil? Why tonight?"

He pulled a pillow under his head and sighed deeply.

"Remember when I asked you, I asked you if you ever went a day without rationalizing?"

"Yes. That hurt."

"I know. It did. I regretted it as soon as I said it. I'm sorry. But it made me realize that _I_ was the one rationalizing. Inventing excuses, saying I didn't know what to do about "this." All those stupid rationalizations, all those made-up excuses, well, they couldn't, they didn't stand up to the plain honest truth. That I love you. And I always will. Nothing, no risk is worth letting you go, without telling you. All the times you could have…died. And without me telling you? I would have gone insane."

"Adam Trent." She shivered.

"The lab blowing up." He shook his head, shaking those bitter thoughts away, for now.

"It was this day." Grissom said firmly. "Fantasies. That man talking about electricity between people. Saying, may all your dreams come true. It made me…it made me pull my head out of my ass." They laughed.

"You are my only fantasy, Sara. Every dream I've ever dreamed, rolled up into one delicious package." He rolled her over and tickled her until she kissed him to a stop.

"If I wanted it to come true, I had to try. Risk your anger, risk your rejection. Risk that it might be…too late."

She sighed. "It could never be too late. You turned me down cold. I was hurt, and I lashed out at you."

"I know. I wish I could make it up to you."

"I can think of a way," she said seductively.

"Why Miss Sidle, how your mind works. I'm shocked."

"Dr. Grissom, if you don't kiss me right now, you will be shocked."

**THE END**


End file.
